


Two Times The Charm

by Falconette



Series: Jean x reader x Marco [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Lemon, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falconette/pseuds/Falconette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean, Marco and reader, a polyamourous  trio from the 104th squad on their day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Times The Charm

**Author's Note:**

> One of my OT3 (Jean x reader x Marco) stories. They are interconnected as they happen in the same universe, however can be read separately.

 

**Two Times The Charm**

 

Getting back on a horse after couple of days in bed wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. Your back and ribcage were still stiff from the fall, but apart from contusions and scabs, the retracting wire that struck you didn’t leave permanent marks on your body. Luckily, red skid marks and bruises were all that was left from your training mishap. Now that you were finally on your feet again, the captain entrusted you with the task of delivering documentation to the town office and taking a couple of novices with you to show them around. You were grateful for being excused from drills for one more precious day and were mentally preparing yourself to answer all sorts of tedious questions from the novices. However, when you rode up to the gate in the garrison fence, the two mounted figures waiting for you looked familiar.  
  
Marco waved energetically, a wide smile on his face, while Jean just gave you a barely detectible nod, his face more stern and humorless than usual.  
  
“So you are the guys that need a tour of the town? Aren’t you bit too old for rookies?” you laughed tauntingly, thrilled to see them.  
  
Jean’s eyes, quick as darts, took in your face, posture, the way you moved, pointedly disregarding the joke, “You haven’t been around lately.” His tone was a mixture of accusation and distress.  
  
“We were worried.” Marco’s gaze rested uneasily on a particularly nasty bruise on your forehead, his brow knotted in a concerned expression. “We heard you fell.” He added more quietly.  
  
“It was nothing serious. A mishap with the reeling wire.” you swiftly rode past them so the boys turned and spurred their horses to keep up on each side of you. “Nothing was broken. I just had to lie still for a few days, ’s all.”   
  
“From what I’ve heard,” Jean’s voice continued relentlessly, “It was a rookie mistake. Apparently your timing of hook release was completely off, you disregarded the basic positioning tips so when your own wire recoiled back in your face it took you down, mid air.”  
  
“Well, aren’t you well informed?“ you said coldly, feeling a shame inside you burn. “It was a stupid slip! I blew it, I got hurt. End of story.”  
  
You rode energetically through the gates and onto the road, feeling their gazes weighing your dismissive words against what they saw. It was hard for you to sit confidently upright and you were aware it showed, and only a blind man would miss the way you winced every time your horse changed its pace or threaded on uneven terrain.  
  
“Sheeesh,” Jean finally grumbled, loosening up, “If you need maneuver gear lessons, just ask.”  
  
You shot him a venomous glare, fueled by the dull pain you were suffering, “I don’t intend to amuse you with my ‘rookie mistake’ show.”  
  
You rode in silence a bit more, Marco with his gaze uncomfortably sunken and Jean sulking, staring at the distance.   
  
“It doesn’t have to be with me.” when he eventually spoke, Jean’s voice was flat, his eyes still fixed at the horizon, “Practice with Marco if you prefer, just practice. I hate seeing you get injured from stupid slips.”  
  
You lightly tapped your horse with a heel to approach Jean’s and waited until he turned his eyes back to you. There was a defiant - and wounded - glaze in them.   
  
“That was harsh, I’m sorry.” you said, “I know you are trying to help.”  
  
Jean nodded in acknowledgement, saying nothing.  
  
“I will switch classes so I can join you during 3D gear practice.” Marco cheerfully chimed in, relieved the tension was gone. “At least, I hope I will be of assistance.” he nervously added, scratching the back of his neck with his hand. “Jean is a lot better with it.”  
  
“It’s alright, I just need to patch some holes in my training.” you said, thankful for Marco’s readiness to assist. Jean’s skill and devotion to its perfection was notorious, but also was his lack of tact and sharp tongue that was quick to criticize. “Anyway, what happened to novices that were supposed to go with me today?”  
  
“They, erm…” Marco hesitated, “They found they had other, more pressing matters to attend to.”  
  
You cocked your head in an unspoken question. This would have been their first venture out of the garrison and first visit to the town – a chance no one would miss.  
  
„We asked them nicely.“ Jean stated with the air of finality, his narrow, fox-like eyes casting sideways glances at the surroundings. You were surprised that your designated companions would agree so easily and Marco must have noticed your puzzlement, since he leaned conspiratorially closer and added in a serious, low voice.  
  
„The first time.“  
  
„What?“ your eyebrows rose.  
  
Marco gave a good-natured chuckle at your disbelief, „It's not like that. We're honor students so we can have a few perks.“  
  
You cast an inquisitive glance at Jean but his eyes were still sweeping the side of the road, a thin, treacherous smirk shimmering on his face. Maybe he did ask nicely but if he did it with that no-nonsense expression of his, it was no surprise a couple of juniors were more than happy to let him take their place.  
  
* * *  
  
Even in early morning, the town was bustling with life. You have passed wagons of goods being imported to its marketplace, visitors and dwellers making way for your horses who nervously twitched their ears at unfamiliar sounds of streets. Vendors were opening their shops, shouting out, luring buyers in. Older people moved slowly about, the younger ones outpacing them just to make way for an occasional horseman or a passing chart.  
  
You were here on half official business and carried no weapons, but you still wore your uniforms and were easily detectible in the crowd. You were used to monotone sights of uniforms in your base so the colors and variety of the townsfolk garbs amazed you. Most of the people paid you no heed and stepped back to let you pass, some were curious, but you noticed several dark, unwelcoming glares that made you glad the boys were at your side.  
  
The streets soon became impassable on horseback, so you dismounted and led the animals to military stables where they would get brushed off, fed and kept safe under a roof. Jean went first, you followed and Marco lingered at the back, easily distracted by sights and sounds of town. Stemming from a small village, he never seemed to tire of the town’s buzz, fascinated by countless shops, faces and streets that lied literally behind every new corner.  
  
At one point you noticed Marco fell too far behind so you called out to Jean to stop and wait.   
  
“What is he doing?” irritated, Jean asked as he halted beside you. Marco was holding his horse’s reins and standing in the middle of a small group of girls who seemed fascinated by him. It was hard to guess their age because their porcelain skin and soft, round shoulders made them look ageless, like precious dolls dressed in frills and silk. Marco was smiling and unconsciously scratching the back of his neck with his free hand and you could see why he would draw their attention. His tall and slender figure stood out clad in the uniform he wore proudly, as always, its standard issue however not able to conceal his broad chest and shapely arms of a man-to-be. His slick black hair framed expressive eyes that fitted nicely to the pale complexion of his handsome face, and the freckles only gave him the air of approachability and the irresistible, boyish charm. And the best part of it all – he was seemingly unaware of the effect he had on women.  
  
The girls around him cooed and giggled in high pitched tones, but one seemed to be bolder than the rest, standing closer and suggestively petting the nuzzle of Marco’s horse. She cast a lot of sideways glances at him underneath her long eyelashes and coquettishly adjusted her curled locks, discreetly exposing powdered cleavage just enough not to be brash, like a kitten or some defenseless little animal that begged to be cuddled and kept safe. So soft, harmless and adorable - so unlike you. It struck you that, compared to her femininity, you must look like crude, unrefined at best. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Marco had a wide, disarming smile on his face that somehow kindled an uneasy feeling in your gut.   
  
“Spoiled town girls; bored, well fed cats toying with a naive field mouse. I’ve seen enough of it back home.” Jean’s low and close voice unglued your eyes from the scene, startling you. “The idiot has it so bad for you, I would be surprised he even noticed what’s beneath her corset.”  
  
You looked again and now Marco’s face seemed even more sheepish, overwhelmed by sudden attention and flood of chattering questions. But as he turned to look at you, his smile waned when he noticed Jean’s lips mouthing words an inch from your ear.  
  
“And nothing stopped you from checking out her corset?” you silently growled at Jean, suppressing the overflowing uneasiness in your gut. Was that jealousy?  
  
He shrugged and snickered, a tinge of bitterness in his tone, “What makes you think Marco was the idiot I was referring to?”  
  
When the girl petting Marco’s horse noticed his attention was elsewhere, she followed his gaze and eventually set her eyes on you. Fair orbs beneath thick eyelashes and carefully formed eyebrows widened in a surprise, studying you like an exotic bug behind a glass, soon accompanied by inquisitive gazes of her friends. Cold, prying eyes. You felt blood irresistibly rush to your cheeks and you suddenly wished the earth would part beneath your feet and swallow you whole; your worn out uniform and dirty boots, your unstylish hair, short nails, unperfumed and unpowdered skin, just so you could remove your sorry sight from focus of their refined - and merciless - judgment.  
  
Your fingers inadvertently went up to brush your hair over the bruise on your face, but Jean’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you in mid-motion and slowly lowering your hand. His hardened eyes, locked with the girl’s, never wavered.  
  
“Let’s go.” he jerked his chin at Marco. The dark-haired youth curtly nodded, all traces of a smile gone from his face, and strode towards you, pulling his horse’s reins without a single look back. Jean turned and started walking towards the stables, your hand still tightly clenched in his. You obediently followed, impressed and moved by Jean’s reaction. He didn’t say a word, but you caught occasional glances he cast at you from the corner of his eye, holding on to your hand despite the danger of being accused of non-professionalism. Using the commotion on the street, you brought his hand to your face and brushed his fingers with your lips for just a short moment, letting him know everything was alright. ‘Thank you’.  
  
His grip tightened. He understood.  
  
When the horses were tethered and taken care of, Jean ushered Marco outside the stables and nudged him with his elbow, “Stand guard.”  
  
“Wha..?” Marco’s protests were cut off by slamming of the door, leaving him standing in the yard with a dumbfounded look on his face. Once alone, Jean came up to you, cupped your face with his hands and kissed you with cautiously restrained hunger. He then examined the bruises on your face, the hardness from his eyes gone.  
  
“Are you sure you were not seriously hurt? Getting hit by recoil alone is no laughing matter, and plummeting down on top of that…” before you could interrupt, he added in a sober voice, “I know because I have been there myself. It can happen to anyone.”  
  
You scanned his face but could find no trace of his usual taunts, so after a pause you replied, “I was lucky to have fallen in a thicket. Really, all I got was a big scare, a couple of bruises and an experience to last me a lifetime.”  
  
Convinced, he pulled you close and hugged you, careful not to squeeze too hard. “We tried to see you but were not allowed into girls’ dorms. Stupid fucking rules!”  
  
“I know, I know…” you soothed his helpless anger, relishing in embrace of his strong arms, “I am here now, you don’t have to worry anymore.”  
  
“You should have seen Marco.” Jean snickered behind your shoulder, “He was so distracted I was afraid he would end in infirmary as well.”  
  
“And you?” you let the question hang in the air.  
  
Jean sighed dejectedly “I probably got on everyone’s nerves by constantly asking around about your condition. I just couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t sit still.”  
  
“I missed your attention.” you pressed tighter against him, tracing your hands down his hips and nonchalantly sliding one of your thighs between his legs.  
  
“You don’t have to…”, he stirred and mumbled, “I took you in here just to make sure you really were alright.”  
  
“I know,” your lips brushed against his earlobe and he softly groaned, “but since we have a little time for ourselves….”  
  
You pushed him against the wall and he sat down on a fragrant hay stack with an uncertain look in his eyes. You didn’t give him the time to protest or stand back up. Your fingers swiftly undid his belt and slid his pants down his thighs, exposing his cock. His eyes quickly darted to the door and then back to you, torn between danger and pleasure. These were official military premises and getting caught here would spell disaster for your careers.  
  
“Marco is keeping guard.” you assured him before you took him in your mouth, ending all protests from his side. His honor student mind might have screamed out rational reasons, but his body was more than willing, the resistance melting beneath your touches. Jean leaned back and closed his eyes, concentrating on wonders your tongue stirred in his nether regions.  
  
“I have been thinking of you a lot these past few days.” he said under breath, his heartbeat quickening.  
  
“And…?”, you asked while lying on soft hay and thoroughly licking his shaft.  
  
“Well…,” he gave you an embarrassed smile and slowly continued in unsure tone, “I missed you and you weren’t there…”  
  
“Aaand….??” you smiled and raised your eyebrows, enjoying his surprising abashment. Modesty was Marco’s trait, not Jean’s.  
  
“Aaaand this is so much better than...” he squeezed through his teeth, red in the face. “Do you really need to ask that!?”  
  
In response, you took him in deeply and made him groan, cupping his buttocks with your hands. You didn’t have much time so you worked him hard, building up the pressure in him with every rhythmical thrust.  
  
“This is good…” he panted with hands on your head, struggling not to push deeper, striving not to make too much noise, “Ohhhh, so good…”  
  
Your tongue helped, massaging him from beneath, stimulating the sensitive tip of his penis with every passing. When you felt it harden and twitch with a will of its own, you knew he was irreversibly close.  
  
“Ngghh…” Jean bit into his finger hard and shuddered with his entire body while warm sticky liquid filled your mouth in strong spurts. When he opened his eyes, you were already on your feet, ogling his limp, heaving body. Even spent and relaxed, his physique, charmingly disheveled hair and flustered face made you wish you had more time on your hands instead of precious moments you stole now and then.  
  
“We have to go.” you said, redundantly, because he was already up, buckling his belt. As you opened the door, you felt Jean place a hot kiss on the nape of your neck.  
  
“Next time, it’s your turn.” he whispered, tickling your skin with his breath.  
  
Marco regarded that with a dark glare, “We are the king’s soldiers in training.” Marco’s subdued tone was urgent and lecturing, nervous paleness making the freckles on his face stand charmingly out, “We must behave appropriately.”  
  
Jean grinned and put an arm around Marco’s shoulders, conspiratorially smirking in his friend’s ear. “And it is ok for a king’s soldier in training to spy on other people’s private affairs while he is supposed to be on sentry duty?”  
  
Marco’s cheeks flushed bright red. His eyes met yours for a fraction of a second then quickly looked away as he cleared his throat, “We are lucky we weren’t caught, this place is swarming with uniforms. Let’s get going, we’ve got documents to deliver.”  
  
Jean turned to you and winked, a grin on his face matching yours.     
  
“Sure.” he said, earning one more disapproving glare from Marco, “what comes better after pleasure than a little work.”  
  
* * *  
  
After the paperwork has been taken care of and the afternoon stretched on, strolling through the town wasn’t as much fun as you thought it would be. Jean was lazily chewing on a skewered piece of meat he bought from a stand, disinterestedly sweeping his gaze left and right across shop windows, facades, people, making occasional comments. Marco constantly lingered half a step behind, uncharacteristically silent and moody, leaving you to your own thoughts.  
  
When you finally found the shop you were looking for, you asked the boys to wait outside and went in. The place was selling trinkets, decorative pins, clasps, combs, ribbons and good luck charms. You picked two plain looking amulets that could go undetected sewn on the inside of a uniform, both designated to bring luck in battle, figuring they would make nice graduation gifts.  
  
“One for you.” you said as you emerged outside and gave one of the amulets to Jean who observed it with an uncertain expression.  
  
“I don’t need this mumbo-jumbo.” he said flatly as he nibbled on the wooden skewer, picking pieces of meat from between his teeth, “I train so wouldn’t have to rely on luck.”  
  
“No one should rely on luck,” you hissed through teeth, pressing the amulet into his palm, “but everyone could use more of it.” He raised his palms in a mockingly exaggerated conciliatory gesture then moved on, studying the patterns imprinted on the charm.  
  
“And one for you.” Marco accepted the amulet from your hand, the touch of his fingers lingering on yours longer than needed.  
  
“Thank you.” he gave you one of his door-opening smiles. “I could sure wish upon it from time to time.” You smiled back but the mirth left his eyes. “Because it seems some guys have more than their fair share of luck.”  
  
You took a moment to realize what he was aiming at.  
  
“Marco…” you started but he stepped closer, almost pushing you against the wall, as his hands went to the collar of your uniform, straightening nonexistent folds. Public displays of affection were out of question and this was as close as he could get to you without raising attention of passersby. His eyes were not smiling anymore and their depths suddenly threatened to pull you in their treacherous, dark places. This was a side of Marco only a few saw and those who have knew the fact that such seemingly easygoing and ambitionless young man was among the squad’s elite was no coincidence.  
  
“I haven’t seen you for days and was worried sick, plus I couldn’t get Jean to shut up with complaining, annoying everybody and going around interrogating people who knew nothing anyway. You know how he gets when things don’t go his way.”    
  
You perfunctory nodded, but Marco didn’t even seem to notice, “I saw you with him this morning.” He paused, frustrated, recalling, “I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t stop watching.”  
  
You gave him a hint of a smile, knowing well that he was not an innocent lamb people perceived him to be, “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”  
  
Your attempt of a joke slid off him like oil off water. His gaze didn’t soften. He looked you straight in the eyes, uncharacteristically serious, “I have been following you with this bulge in my pants all day long and all I see before my eyes is you going down on him.”  
  
You sneaked a peek downwards and confirmed his words, meeting his gaze again. Open street in the middle of town was the worst possible place for taking care of those issues but something in that exact predicament stirred a dull longing in you.  
  
“I want you.” lust formed three hurried words, soft and uncompromising, pinning you down with the weight of desire seeping from his voice. His teeth flashed when he mouthed “Hard.”   
  
His lips floated just inches from your face, half open and moist, yet you couldn’t kiss so you ogled one another for several long seconds, devouring each other without a touch, forgetting the commotion on the street. Then you audibly swallowed, broke the spell and weakly said, “Let’s find a quiet corner.”  
  
He didn’t hesitate a moment, lifting his head like a wolf on a prowl scanning his surroundings. He then strode towards a back alley and you swiftly followed, vainly trying to catch a glimpse of Jean’s unruly hair amid the crowd to let him know where you were headed to.  
  
After turning several corners, you finally reached a dead end of a sunless back yard, the narrow street barricaded by a rusty padlocked door. The only stirring you heard were pigeons spooked by your presence, fluttering somewhere above in murky shades. Marco gave you a once-over, reluctant for a mere second, and then pressed your body with his against the wall so unexpectedly, you didn’t have the time to brace yourself.  
  
“Ow, easy,“ you squeezed out, wincing “my ribs still ache.”  
  
“Ah, sorry, sorry,” consideration was back in his voice as he examined your face, “I got carried away. Are you alright?”  
  
“Will you two stop asking that?” you exclaimed, half jokingly - half annoyed, “Maybe I should have gotten myself an amulet against repetit….”  
  
Marco pressed his lips against yours and muffled your voice in the sweetest possible way, locking his fingers behind your head, cradling you in his palms. You kissed long and feverishly, making every second last. His mouth and tongue led you on and teased you, just to rob you of breath with their intensity and passion. He pressed his chest and thighs against your body, pinning you comfortably to the wall, making you feel protected and trapped at the same time, coveted and covered in kisses. His fingers, sliding down the sides of your body, took their time to feel every curve and form, like a blind many tying to chisel your shape into his mind’s eye.  
  
“Did you notice how many couples we passed on the streets? Holding hands, laughing together… I want to do these things with you. ” his lips pressed gentle kisses on your skin, “Watching you without being allowed to touch you is torture.” he whispered, nuzzling your neck, his suppressed pants giving you pleasant goose bumps. His face moved away so he could look you in the eyes, the gleam in his dark orbs somewhat sad, “I wish we could have that. I hate coming up with excuses just to be together.”  
  
“We have now.” you heard yourself say, bravely despite the pang of pain. You too wished you had that, and more. You wished you could walk hand in hand with Jean or lie with your head on Marco’s chest, together searching starry skies for constellation patterns. Instead of giving in to gloomy thoughts, you kissed Marco back more intensely, rubbing his fresh, prickly undercut with your fingers. You loved his muscled neck and the sharp outline of his jaw, so you let your fingertips slide down their finely chiseled forms. His body reacted to your presence and your touches, his pecks quickly becoming silent pleas, his caresses wordless begging to be relieved of the pent up pressure lust had build up inside him.  
  
“Could you lend me a hand?” Marco eventually panted out a strained snicker, his eyes imploring and smoldering at the same time. You smirked and readily unclasped his belt, opening up his pants and gently stroking his protruding shaft.  
  
“How bad is it?” you swept your tongue across your front teeth, surprising yourself with your playfulness. In the absence of daylight and people, far away from your familiar surroundings, it was easy to be bold.  
  
  
Marco breathed a single, serious, barely audible word: “Bad.” His hips swung forward, sliding his hot penis across your palm, making him shudder against his will. You felt your blood rush through your loins, exciting you. You met his gaze, your desire as raw and open as his.  
  
“Ahh, how I wish we could have a place for ourselves!.” you growled biting your lip and Marco pressed back of his head against the wall in frustration.  
  
“Fuck!” he spat angrily, frowning, but then you started tugging at his shaft and his expression softened, the gleaming eyes losing their focus. Your fingers stroked up and down his length, the overflowing precum making their job easier. He was already close, you could tell by how relentlessly hard he was; he would have probably climaxed just from grinding against you if he had kept at it.  
  
“Ughhh….” Marco exhaled slowly from deep inside his chest, leaning with his back against the wall, relaxing. The dark eyes watched you with admiration beneath half-closed lids while fingers of one of his hands tenderly traced contours of your eyebrows, cheeks, lips. You lightly kissed his fingertips when they brushed across your mouth, loving the softness with which the young soldier’s hands caressed your skin.  
  
You leaned your chin against his shoulder and whispered in his ear, while playfully gyrating your hips, “Try me. Come on, try.”  
  
Emboldened by your squirming body, Marco shakily reached for your pants and you sucked in your belly to allow his fingers to fit in between the fabric and your skin and sink lower, in your moist crevice. He gasped, encountering the hidden, enticing entrance, and you could feel his penis harden underneath your fingers when a new pulse of arousal coursed through his body. His fingers moved about gently and tentatively, before he pulled his hand out and brought it to his nose.  
  
“Mmmmhh…” Marco closed his eyes for a moment, twisting his brow in a painful grimace, just to look at you with a ferocious glare, his hands feverishly cupping the sides of your face, “I fucking want you, now! I want to be inside you and fuck you hard against this wa… Aghhh! Ooohhh shit, I’m, I’m doneee!”  
  
The spurt of seed exploded from his penis and spilled in forceful gushes to the floor. Marco’s body trembled as he came, again and again, his cock twitching in your fist in waning spasms. Spent, his shoulders slumped, he sighed heavily and looked at you, your face still in his hands.  
  
“I am sorry I cannot provide a place for us, so we have to skulk like criminals.” instead of relieved, his voice was sad.  
  
“Is that what you were thinking of all this time?” you asked in disbelief, cleaning him up and buckling his pants again.  
  
Marco shook his head smilingly but looked away. He was a lousy liar. “I just think you deserve better than this.”  
  
“Damn right she does!” Jean’s voice accompanied echoing stomps of his boots as he approached. “I have been looking everywhere for you!” he turned to Marco, furious, “Is this your idea of fun!? Dragging her to a filthy hole like this to jerk you off?”  
  
Marco’s cheeks flushed bright red, his eyes darting from you to Jean to you again. The dim light was tricky but you could have sworn you saw tears welling up in them.  
  
“I am sorry I...” Marco began pitifully.  
  
“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” Jean growled, pushing himself into Marco’s face, “What were you thinking?!”  
  
You interfered, your voice deceptively low and calm “Stop it, Jean. You’re out of line.” Your palm pressed flatly against his chest, startled by vehement pounding of his heart. He must have been running, worrying, panicking, though he would never admit it. His rage was just a poorly vented concern. Your eyes locked with his piercing glare and after a moment he backed away, his chin sinking.  
  
“I just wanted to get you something nice for the pendant, but when I turned around you were both gone without me.” his eyes were accusing, his voice hurt despite his effort to sound unfazed, “It’s not that I mind…” His gaze slid over to Marco and back to you again, “It’s just, finding you in place like this...” He pointedly kicked at a piece of discarded wood piece on the ground that could have been a broken table leg.  
  
“It was my idea. And yeah,” you said slowly, fighting against a budding grin on your face, “it was fun.”   
  
Jean glared at you for a moment longer then he looked away. “Tsk!”   
  
You took Marco’s hand, turning to him, “You don’t need to apologize, Marco, for anything. I know you would have given me more, if you had more to give.”  
  
His arms silently reached out and he embraced you, clutching to you, pressing his face against your neck, whispering barely audible words, “You know I would never disgrace or hurt you…”  
  
“I know.” you said, hugging him back tightly, wishing you could stay like that longer. “I know.”  
  
He then let go and strode towards the main street without turning back, wiping at his face with the back of his palm.  
  
Jean cocked his head at you with a raised eyebrow, a hand on his hip, feigning confidence, “So, I am the bad guy here?”  
  
You sighed and gave him an exasperated look, “You both really are something! Sulk, quarrel and whine like little children on the playground, but the bottom line is; both of you are going home with stupid grins on your faces and it will be cold shower for me when we get back.”  
  
Jean shot you a surprised glance then walked over and gently ruffled your hair, laughing at your pout “You’re right, that is not something proper men would do.” He then pulled you in and wrapped his long arms tightly around you, kissing your forehead and saying softly, “We’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”  
  
“I’m not worried.” you grumbled defiantly, holding onto folds of his cape, enjoying his warm smell. “Next time any of you two come to me, I cum first. End of story.”  
  
He sighed, stroking your hair, “You know what I mean.”  
Your voice was muffled and barely audible when you responded couple of moments later, but distinct enough for Jean to hear, “Maybe.”  
  
“Why do you always have to be so stubborn!?” he exclaimed, irritated, spooking the nesting pigeons but not letting go. You could feel his blood pump faster as he fought to regain his composure and secretly snickered. You didn’t let go either, for a long time.  
  
* * *  
  
You didn’t rush on your way back, letting the horses easily sway you with their rhythmic gait while you chatted in the soft sunset light. Every now and then, when you all grew quiet, Marco would start humming various melodies which would unravel into songs when he would forget himself. He might not have looked it, but he had a deep, melodic voice that made you fall for him all over again.  
  
“We are the king’s soldiers in training. We must behave appropriately.” Jean interrupted when he had finally had enough, imitating Marco’s lecturing voice from before. “I am pretty sure that does not include going around, singing. Not everybody we pass has to know you got to blow a load.”  
  
“I get carried away when I am happy.” Marco shrugged, offering an embarrassed smile and rubbing a finger under his nose, then winking at you. You wondered whether your scent still lingered on his hand but as you noticed the mischievous gleam in his eyes, you felt your cheeks gently flush.  
  
Jean rolled his eyes, sighed and looked away.  
  
“When we get back, I will sew the pendants into lining of your uniforms.” you reminded them, “Just have them washed first.”  
  
Marco started frantically patting his pockets then gave out a small cry. “It is gone! I lost mine!”  
  
“Do you have any idea where could it be?” you inquired, a bit disappointed.  
  
“Maybe in that back street… “ Marco’s voice didn’t hold much hope as he half-turned his horse.   
  
“Well, we are certainly not going back. Especially if it is in that place.” Jean cut in a no-negotiatory tone, sounding more mature than he was, “We should have returned hours ago anyway.”  
  
You nodded and spurred your horse on, glancing at Marco’s saddened expression and giving him a smile. “I’ll just get you another one after graduation. Your supply of luck will have to hold out until then.”  
  
He acknowledged with a faint smile and followed, casting one last uneasy glance at the town’s gate before giving his horse a nudge forward with heels of his boots.   
  
His luck will have to hold out. It will have to.

 

THE END


End file.
